ashes, ashes (catch me lest i fall)
by lucirui
Summary: Heroes don't get to choose their destinies. The ashes cover the land, and he just wants to cry.
1. prologue

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm Lucirui, and it is just great to be writing a fanfic. Finally. After years of reading them, I thought I should contribute to the community. -pretty nervous though, so excuse me omg ;c- sorry for any mistakes. Also, any guesses on what the story will be about? Cookies if you make the effort~ c: This chapter is pretty much a simple prologue.**

**Please _review_! I'd love to hear what you guys think (and I love reviews but yeah). Ask me stuff. I'm a real nice person. Really. Hey, don't look at me like that! I'm telling the truuuuth.**

* * *

**-Percy-**

**~_let's dream of a perfect world_~**

_**(dreamt a dream of a perfect world  
smiled and joked and looked at the clouds  
held the laughter of a child, so clear  
drank in all the honey and all the sweets**_

_**dreamt a dream of a perfect world  
found it shattered, mirror shards scattered  
held the eyes of a child, so familiar  
fell into the twisted looking glass**_

_**dreamt a dream of a perfect world  
broke the hands of the clock, the hero fell  
held the melody of a child, so foreign  
distorted the voice once honest and true**_

_**dreamt a dream of a perfect world  
blinded all sight, misguided the light  
held the reflection of a cruel, so cruel  
lost the way back home**_

_**dreamt a dream of a perfect world-)**_

A wave of disorientation hit him like a punch to the chest made by a furious son of Ares. Percy sat up, dark green eyes wide open. A gasp escaped his lips. Hands reached for the pen beneath his pillow.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale. _Exhale_-

Fingers curling around the messy sheets and releasing the sword in guise of a fountain pen, Percy felt inexplicable fear grip his spine, and no matter how many deep breaths he took, it wouldn't go away. He felt like he'd had the worst nightmare ever. Maybe of the deaths he'd seen (_oh gods, _don't_ think of that, don't even touch that trail of thought with a ten metre trident_). Maybe of losing what, and who, he had left. Probably the latter, and wasn't that selfish? Percy didn't care about the deaths unless they were of his friends?

He didn't care enough, and _gods, _a guilt trip down the memory lane was not what he needed right now. Not at, what? The demigod tossed a quick glance at the digital clock on his desk. It glowed green, with block numbers showing _5:31 AM. _He didn't need his emotions overwhelming him, not at five in the morning. He put Riptide onto his night stand.

_Too early for that, _Percy thought wryly, with the ghost of a smile on his lips. _Maybe after I eat some pizza for breakfast, because pizza makes the world go round. _

"I need some water," he declared.

However, the more Percy thought about it, the more wrong it seemed. The fear was so real it was tangible. Yeah, Percy always remembered his nightmares, because they were always twisted versions of his memories, and he could remember them with a clarity he wished he didn't have. Percy's dreams were like looking from a one-way glass. He'd watch everything go from bad to worse, then to terrifying. He'd scream, but no one on the other side would hear.

_Because then they would be _dead_. _

It was like a movie of his past and future fears. In clear technicolor. So really, Percy wished he could forget- but he wouldn't if he could, because it'd been _his_ fault, what had happened. He couldn't forget the sacrifices _others_ had made for _him_. The freedom he had, now, it was...it was...

_**Was it really his?**_

Percy's mind went blank, and his wry smile was wiped off immediately, morphing into horror. He had never thought about this before.

"I _really_ need some water," he muttered decisively to himself. He released his hold on the sheets, and cracked his knuckles. He hadn't realised how tense he was. Sighing, Percy rubbed his eyes. He could almost hear Annabeth say, "_rubbing your eyes isn't good for you, you know. Stop rubbing them!_" But then again, when had Percy heeded warnings, benevolent or not? Unconsciously, he flinched, as if burned. Memories of voices coaxing him, telling him to do _this_, to do _that. _Golden eyes mocking him gleefully, tauntingly, full of amusement.

He was his _own _person, damn it. Percy did not want to be used. He was _not a puppet. _

The navy blue curtains let in dim light- red from the outside traffic lights and yellow from the streetlamps. Occasionally a group of teenagers' voices could be heard (_innocent laughter, and sometimes, Percy needed to be reminded that there was still something to live for, that supportive, caring _Annabeth_ was there behind him, that he still had _friends), and a car sped by every once in a while.

Nights like these were uneventful, and Percy thought they should stay that way. He really despised sleeping. It didn't bring him the rest he needed, not anymore. If anything, they did the opposite.

Death and war were terrible, evil things.

And life could be so much _worse_.

Percy groaned, standing up. What was wrong with him today? Just yesterday, Nico, Annabeth, and he had thrown a mini-party. They went to watch a movie, and Nico had thrown buttery popcorn all over Percy (_damn Nico, that guy_), laughing. Annabeth had laughed too. He was glad they could still laugh. None of them noticed the way Percy's smiles faltered when no one was looking, and how his laughs were sometimes forced.

But those memories felt foreign and faraway to Percy. Something out of place.

Percy shook his head and strolled out of his bedroom and into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. Given to him by Annabeth, the cup was shaped in the form of an owl- the symbol for wisdom.

Its eyes winked up at him, and a soft, small smile chased away his frustration.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: some back-story, a new character is introduced, and you're very welcome for more confusion. Thanks and enjoy!**

**~lucirui**

**Chapter 1.**

* * *

**-Eden-**

**~_ready, aim, fire~_**

**_(and all my life i've just wanted a safe haven,  
why won't you hear me, why won't you listen?  
and all my life i've just wanted someone beside me,  
why won't you save me, why won't you forgive?_**

**_and all my life i've just wanted someone to blame,_**

**_ready, aim, fire; ready, aim-_**

**fire_.)_**

Fifteen years ago, a terrible war among the gods and titans destroyed the world.

For the first time, the heroes of the prophecy chose the dark road to power that could only result in failure. The plague that followed had utterly decimated the mortals, and demigods who tried to cure it perished. It inflicted lasting damage that prevented plants from blooming properly. Everything withered eventually.

Pan was gone, you know.

Roads to success fell into crumbles, and hopes were shattered. Desperation at the darkest time created monsters. The wonderful gods in people's memories faded away, and turned into illusions.

Hated illusions branded by deceit and hate.

Why didn't the gods help them? Why didn't they stop this plague? Were lives of the mortal worthless?

Did it amuse them, to watch mortals die like this?

It must have, otherwise the planet would not be such a disaster. Look anywhere and you would find echoes of days past, evidence of life that once blossomed, of death that now reigned. Ugly, crooked stumps were what were left of the Amazon. Paris was deserted, deemed a haunted city. New York was in ruins, houses broken down and windows shattered. The Sahara burned, and anything that landed upon the sand sizzled.

Yes, the sun continued to shine, but the omnipresent clouds shrouded it.

And so, any child of Hades was loathed, because those pesks alone wouldn't view death permanent. They were princes of the Underworld. Who were they kidding when they said they cared? No one believed their words.

The demigods who persevered banded together in groups. Albeit they had widely varying views on whether the end of days could be justified, it was easier to sum everything up into two groups.

The Supporters and the Rebels.

The former believed that the gods would eventually find a way to save them. They relied on the gods, and they wanted a cure so, so badly.

Not many knew, but the Olympians still maintained contact with some demigods. Those who had strong wills and were not affected by the plague, nor the chaos caused by it.

No. That wasn't correct. No one hadn't been tortured by the plague. The better word was that they were chosen as heroes who could take the chaos and invert it into peace, that they could still think clearly.

Even though the plague had died down and was unlikely to resurface, the ramifications stayed. The gods fought their war, and the demigods were forced to fix the mistakes left behind. They had to endure the harsh winters and scathing summers, during which technology became something foreign and unknown. The descendants of Hephaestus could not build anything like the laptops of before, for the materials needed did not exist anymore- and all the metals that were left were forged into weapons.

It was rare to see them used as luxury items such as jewellery, unless they'd been created pre-plague.

Political discord and economic downfall broke what was left of governments. There were only groups- almost like packs- of demigods, usually all descendants of one god, who banded together to survive. Food became scarce and agriculture was downright impossible due to the tarnished, infertile lands. Hunting for monsters was a daily task, now. Children of Apollo were highly valued for their ability to sanitise poisoned water, but it was a hard process.

Too bad Poseidon didn't have any children except for those useless cyclops.

So of course, the Rebels went against that. They just knew the gods were hiding something from them. Post-war, Kronos vanished, and who knew where Gaea went. The Olympians did not step out to appease the majority, apparently only choosing to confide in a few.

Those 'few' had their lips sealed shut. And rumours had it that one infamous group of Rebels had literally sewn someone's lips shut when he didn't reveal any information.

(One piece of info was about as valuable as two demigods, some joked. Oh, dark times.)

It was not just, but it was acceptable, to some, and soon a third view came forward. The Neutrals. Quite self-explanatory- they were resigned to their current lives, and believed in peace and harmony. Accept what had happened. Everything must've happened for a reason.

Eden called that cowardly bullshit. And the Olympians? They were cowardly bastards who couldn't face reality. The Earth was dying. Humans and demigods were dying out. If someone didn't step in (_and Eden would be that somebody_), it would truly be the apocalypse.

Fifteen years ago, a terrible war among the gods and titans destroyed the world.

Eden, the last son of Zeus, envisioned a Golden Age with no death or sickness, and he would need help to achieve it.

If Zeus wouldn't aid him, then so be it. Eden would not show mercy to his father, if the time came. And he had a feeling that if gods were indeed hiding something, then he would have to disobey them eventually.

Eden needed to know. He could change the world, if given a chance. He was going to change the world, even if he was going against the world. It was his _destiny_. He was a son of Zeus. He could clear clouds, and control the air. He could do anything he wanted to when he set his mind on it.

_('It's as if time has frozen,' someone had once said to Eden. 'Nothing lives anymore.'_

_He hated to say that he agreed._)

Right now, though, Eden was mainly wondering who this boy on the ground as if punched was. He knelt on the ground in the middle of ancient ruins (and yeah, pre-plague was considered ancient). The dark-haired boy was desperately fishing for something in the dull lake beside him. Eden was tempted to shout a warning to tell him that water was contaminated, and touching it would burn skin.

But then the boy's arms resurfaced, totally intact, though the object he'd been searching for was not found. That must be a son of Apollo, if he was capable of surviving the clouded waters.

Said son of Apollo proceeded to _dive into the clouded water, _and well, no one could do that without crumbling. The acid within was too strong, and even if they could heal that, they couldn't recover from infections that followed.

No hesitation at all. What was that guy thinking? Absolutely insane. Even monsters had better survival instincts than this boy did.

Eden gaped, his shout dying down before it could escape his lips. _Fine_, he scoffed. If the boy was suicidal and had a death wish, so be it. Wasn't his business. Inwardly, though, Eden lamented for who could have been an ally.

At that moment, Eden started. His blue eyes zoomed towards the distance on the other side of the contaminated lake, and narrowed when Eden saw a shimmer in the light.

After a few seconds, he prepared to leave. A loud splash boomed, and Eden widened his eyes as he watched the boy from before jump out of the lake, looking completely dry. He wore a dark blue shirt that said '_demigod'_. He wasn't breathless, though a sliver of despair and panic crossed his green eyes.

Oh. _Oh_. Eden's mind clicked with awe. This wasn't a son of Apollo. This boy had to be related to Poseidon. A son of _Poseidon, _and descendants of the ruler of the sea were said to be able to cure oceans- great bodies of water could be cleansed and purged- just as powerful as Eden was.

"You all right?" he inquired cheerfully, with a touch of concern. Concern was mandatory if Eden wished to recruit this boy- he must've been around Eden's age. Eden walked over to see the boy more closely. He scrutinised Poseidon's son. Dark hair, green eyes, an aura of...power.

Eden acknowledged the fact that mirth could be a useful weapon and a method of intimidation in these despondent days where nothing happened. It promised power, freedom, and a bright future.

It also promised wrath if met with disobedience. Eden's pleasant smile widened.

* * *

**-Percy-**

_No. _No! Percy dove into the lake on impulse, hands extended, searching for something. His whole mind was a haze, though, and as soon as he went past the water's surface, he forgot what he was diving for. His head hurt so much it felt like it was splitting in half.

_A scream..._

_Ceramic shattering..._

_Someone calling his name..._

_A prophecy...?_

"Annabeth?" he rasped, head underwater. Swimming forward, his vision adjusted to the water quickly enough, but a small part of his brain wondered why the water was so dark and unclear. It felt so foreign. Percy whistled, calling out to any hippocampi or water nymphs that might be nearby.

_Dad? Dad, where are you? Where am I, _Percy asked, emerald eyes flickering around nervously.

None came. Not even his father replied.

No one was there for him. Oh gods. Percy let out a yell of frustration that resulted in bubbles streaming up. He shot out of the water, landing on the rocks of the land.

What was he supposed to do now? There'd always been a prophecy before he went on quests. Someone always told him what to do, what he had to fulfill again.

"You all right?" someone asked curiously. Percy peered up, and was met by determined cerulean eyes and blond hair. He was reminded of Luke, and wow, that hurt was not necessary. Luke Castellan, the hero of the story who had sacrificed everything. Percy wasn't the hero, not really. What had he done? What had he sacrificed? Wasn't enough...

(_nothing he did was ever enough-_)

Percy didn't _want_ to be the hero, not at all, because he _wasn't_ the damn_ hero._

The blond was smiling, pleased, and that was downright unsettling. It was like a drop of blood upon a field of snow, except not, because it was the only happy thing in this whole place. Trees were withered, ground lacked lush grass, and no one except for this stranger was in his view. Thick, grey clouds covered the land, and sunlight barely made it through them. Mountains in the distances were bleak, and-

Percy blinked, squinting even though he knew his vision was perfect. Were the buildings he saw really so...so wrecked? There were hills of ash and dust, and a lone clock-tower stood. Its hands were ripped out, and the glass had a huge crack through it, as if struck by lightning.

_We ain't in Camp Half Blood no more, Percy._

"Y-yeah," Percy said, a frown creasing his brows. "Where is this? I don't recognise anything..."

"Edge," said the guy. When no recognition showed on Percy's expression, the guy added, "New York, if you know it as that."

_New York?! _Percy jawdropped, and shook his head. "No. New York is _not _like this. I'm from New York! Not from...here." Wherever here was. Percy refused to believe this was New York.

A confused shake of the head in response. "No," the boy replied confidently, if not a bit ruefully. "We're on the outskirts of Edge. This is how it's been for the last fifteen years, since the War."

What war? The war Percy had fought in? When was it? Percy looked down to see if he was still Percy Jackson. Yep, still a demigod. Nope, not an old man who'd lived in another time.

"What's the date?" he suddenly asked. If what he thought was true...

"What's the _date_? Where are you from? The future? It's year 15, of course."

Percy groaned. "_No, _this _can't_ be. Oh my gods. Seriously?" he exclaimed to the skies, to the fates, to the gods. A few years ago, he'd awoken in a camp full of demigods. Now, he'd awoken in the outskirts in another world. That was the only explanation. If amnesia was the cause for his confusion, then the Fates must've loved twisting his life.

"Woah, woah there. Breathe slowly. Relax," the blond murmured.

"I am relaxed," Percy snapped, but his annoyance dissolved into misery. "Can you take me to the Olympians?"

There was a pause before he got a reply. "No, I can't. I would if I could, but I'm not that close to them."

...

Percy rubbed his temples. "Okay," he breathed. At least he knew he was somewhere other than his dimension. There was always the possibility that this stranger was lying to him and just telling him a horrible, cruel story, but Percy didn't have any choice but to believe his words. "I'm Percy," he offered. "Sorry we got off the wrong foot."

"No problem," came the cheerful reply. "Son of Poseidon, right?"

Hm? "How did you know?"

"I saw you go into the water. Not many people can do that, you know. The water's deadly to most of us unless made portable." The stranger held out a hand. "I'm Eden."

At least people here still shook hands. Percy was afraid even that became obsolete. He took Eden's hand and shook it. He managed a weak smile. "Nice to meet you, Eden. Who's your godparent?"

"Zeus," came the name, spoken with unveiled scorn.

"Zeus," echoed Percy.

What was wrong with the sky god? A stern guy, yeah, but not too bad. He was Thalia's dad, after all, and even though he was responsible for quite some troubling things...

Wait. Wait a second. Backtrack here. Eden was a son of Zeus, one of the Big Three? Hell. This world was really, really weird.

Percy hoped his friends still existed.

He groaned again, frustrated and confused.

"You know Zeus?" Eden asked nonchalantly, but he couldn't fool Percy.

"No," Percy lied. Probably was pretty obvious that it was a lie. What else could Percy say? "You say we're at...Edge? Have you heard of Camp Half-blood before?"

"Never," Eden said thoughtfully. "It was, perhaps, created pre-plague." He didn't sound especially interested in the camp though.

"What's the plague you speak of? And why is the water deadly?"

Eden's expression darkened, but he kept the smile on. Percy nearly flinched at his cold voice. "The Olympians started a war with the Titans. The heroes gave in to Gaea, and look." He lifted his hands and made a waving motion. "Gaea chose to redefine life. Earth is pretty much dead."

Stricken, Percy asked, "the gods couldn't interfere...?"

"They didn't. They could have, though," Eden replied. He looked intensely at Percy, all amicable and wanting to be friends. "Help me. With our powers, we can find out what the gods are hiding from us. And if they still won't help us, we'll go to the Titans. Or Gaea. We can make this world a better place. I need a son of Poseidon," he added earnestly, smiling brilliantly.

Percy averted his gaze for a moment, before nodding. He was only helping, after all. If he didn't, who knew what would happen to this world. "I have one condition. After the world is saved, I want to go back to mine," he said decisively. If Eden didn't agree, then Percy had no choice but to do his best alone.

A surprised, amused laugh. "Oh, of course. I promise, Percy. After we make this world a better place, you're free to go _wherever _you wish."

Not knowing whether to be offended by Eden's reaction or not, Percy just nodded warily.


End file.
